


Happiness

by kuutar (teapertti)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapertti/pseuds/kuutar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As difficult as it might be, one can learn to see someone else's happiness as their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Onni](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303297) by [teapertti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapertti/pseuds/teapertti). 



> Not that meaningful of a fic but well, here it is. I was inspired by Joan Baez's "Fare Thee Well". (This is a translation of the Original Author notes. For the notes on the translation, see the bottom of the page.)

"Three months. It's a terribly long time," Jean let out of his mouth. Armin looked at him over the dining table and absent-mindedly clinked the spoon in his soup bowl. For him it was a shame to see Jean in such low spirits.

"It's not that long, after all. You see, the human understanding of time..." he began, but stopped when he saw the doubting face of his friend. The months of a pining human turned into years without rain, Jean thought and averted his gaze. The billowing discussion of other people echoed in the high dining hall as a cacophonous melody, and the noise somehow always made the supper a prosaic experience. Jean would've preferred to talk to Armin somewhere in private, even just in the laundry room or in the arms storeroom.

"I'll ask the Captain if he'll let me come along." Now it was Armin's turn to be skeptical.

"You are on sick leave! It's no use sending lame soldiers to the field," he snapped and gently poked Jean's sore leg with the tip of his boot, making his upper lip wrinkle. Armin felt like smiling. Stubbornness that could reach the levels of stupidity was, for some reason or another, a feature that was shared by most people he cared about.

"You'll die if you come with us," he added patiently and looked into Jean's eyes. He didn't want to die, of course, and Armin wouldn't allow him to, even if he wanted it.

"But three months..." he muttered and drank his water fretfully.

"As you know, you could die, too." Armin blinked. He indeed could. But it was no use thinking about it now. They finished their meal in mutual silence.

Jean closed his eyes and imagined what the heather flowers looked like – how thousands of them would stand in a foggy moor; humble, pink-colored and charming. The world behind the walls was mysterious and beautiful, but there also awaited death for those who were unguarded and unlucky. His mind was pierced by an image of the dreamlike heather field getting stained by human blood; Armin falling among the heathers and being forgotten there, and Jean himself being offered with no other information than that he had gotten lost along the way. He placed his hand on his chest and listened to the beating of his heart for a long while. Armin was very dear to him. In the past he couldn't have even guessed that from their acquaintance would grow a friendship that as strong and persistent as an aged black alder.

Some time ago, they had been (perhaps from Jean's request) moved to sleep in the same part of the barracks. Occasionally, when Jean was waiting for the sleep to come during the dark evening hours, he climbed down from his bed and crept towards the other end of the room where Armin slept. He was always curled up in the bed like a small hedgehog, is breathing audible as he gently exhaled. Jean could listen to that to him breathing like that through the nights. When he was by himself, he had sometimes fantasized that on these occasions Armin would wake up from his slumber and out of sudden rise up to kiss him, and that they would spend the whole night tangled up like two garter snakes. But soon he had noticed the absurdity of his thoughts, at least that time when Armin had truly woken up and gotten startled because of his intense gaze.

"Jean! What are you doing?" he had whispered and gasped for breath, beads of perspiration glistening on his forehead.

"Thinking about you," Jean had answered gently. Armin had probably thought he was dreaming, and after hearing the reply he had turned on his side and continued sleeping.

Moreover, Jean had realized that supposedly there would one day be someone else whom Armin would admire as much as Jean admired him. From time to time the thought of it had driven him to the verge of despair and rage; so much had Jean felt like seizing Armin's hands and demanding him to belong only to him or alternatively to no one. But finally even that feeling of anguish had loosened its grasp on his heart. Did it matter that much in the end to whom Armin belonged or whom he loved the most?Look, Jean had told himself, can't you just be happy that he's happy, without any sort of conditions? And when Armin sat somewhere reading or smiled at him from across the yard, he let joy glimmer inside himself. For humans were ultimately alone in their life, and in such loneliness the greatest joy was someone else's happiness.

As the day of departure arrived, Jean watched as Armin prepared for his task. He had put on his dark green woolen cloak and folded the hood over his straw-colored hair. The air was cool outside, and Jean felt like pointing it out, just to prove that he cared, but he realized that it was needless. Certainly Armin knew, for he always knew everything. Jean watched in silence as Armin pulled on his boots with a great effort; the sight was both endearing and sad in its own way. During the years Armin had not physically grown much. He still had in himself the same delicate innocence of a young boy, but at the same time Jean didn't remember meeting anyone who would have a soul that felt older than his.

"Don't be sad, Jean, for I will surely return to you," Armin said as he rose. Don't talk about death so lightly, Jean thought in his mind and sighed.

"You promise?" He then asked. They looked at each other for a long time. Armin blinked; his gaze measured up the beautiful face of the other man, staring at the area between his yellowish eyes.

"I promise," he whispered.

The day was still young, but the horses had been already been saddled up, and were ready to go. Jean watched the soldiers bustling about, doing last-minute preparations. He wished that his leg would be healthy again. Armin turned towards him, and on his face there was a mix of gentleness and seriousness. His mouth area was somehow tensed, like he had been holding his breath. Jean bent down to him, placed his hands to Armin's shoulders and put his forehead against his. He inhaled the scent of the other man, so that the memory of it would not disappear from his mind during the coming months, or ever. Armin lifted his right hand and caressed Jean's own before stepping back with a bashful expression on his face.

"Goodbye then, Jean," he said, quietly and softly. As he turned his back to him Jean finally understood, that he truly was a lucky man.

**Author's Note:**

> Making a completely accurate translaton for this fic proved to be an impossible task when it comes to the stylistical details, but we were able to get a decent result with Aespren who has edited this translation for me (just like all the previous translations, too). Major changes have not been made.


End file.
